


Thrice Bitten

by Calacious



Category: Sons of Anarchy
Genre: Episode Tag, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Tig's ass
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-20
Updated: 2013-10-20
Packaged: 2017-12-29 22:56:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1011096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calacious/pseuds/Calacious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tig's posterior is on the line, again. Chibs patches him up in more ways than one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thrice Bitten

**Author's Note:**

> Tag to, "Orca Shrugged," episode five, season five.

Being bitten on the ass fucking hurts and, really, as often as it happens to him, Tig thinks that maybe he should just offer to timeshare it with dogs and pissed off jerks, 'cause getting this much ass-action, well, he would like to at least get some sort of monetary compensation for it.

'Course there were other uses for his ass. Far better uses, which, while they might hurt, would at least hurt in a good way, giving him some enjoyment in return.

Instead of voicing either of these thought, he asks, "Why does this always happen to me?"*

"It's 'cause you've got a mighty fine ass," Chibs says.

"'S not funny."

Chibs gives him a look that makes him sweat, and, without batting an eye, says, "Wasn't trying to be funny."

"Yeah, Tig, your ass is fucking cute," Jax teases.

Laughter from the others isn't far behind.

If he wasn't in so much pain, he'd probably have an actual comeback, but as it is, Tig manages to swallow around the sudden lump in his throat and bite back a groan.

"C'mon let's get you back to the clubhouse and have Tara work on that ass of yours," Chibs says, and is it Tig's imagination or do the man's eyes linger a little too long on his bloody posterior?

'He must be trying to determine how much damage there is to my ass, or something,' Tig thinks. After all, the man was a medic, or whatever, back when he had a life not tied to the Sons. It's just natural that his eyes would linger like that when a man's been bitten on the ass. He'd be doing the same if it had happened to Jax or Juice.

And, maybe the reason he's wondering what it would be like to have Chibs admire his ass from a closer vantage point is because Venus has made him a little wet and hard, and fuck, being bitten on the ass is a, well, it's a pain in the ass is what it is. No other words for it, really.

"You've sure got a popular ass," Juice says, and he chuckles and dances out of the way when Tig takes a swipe at him.

Tig recalls the last time he was bitten in the ass – same fucking ass cheek too – by a killer Doberman. It was Juice's fault then – who the fuck drugs a dog with crank anyway? It wasn't funny then, it's not funny now, and it takes all of his willpower not to pull his gun out and shoot the kid in the ass to show him how it feels.

By the time that he's back at the clubhouse and lying face down on a table, ass bared for the entire world to see, his ass feels like it's on fire and he's hard-pressed to think of anything more humiliating. But then he's being plied with alcohol and good drugs, and he's fucking high as a kite, and the tearing tug of the needle and thread as he's being sewed up barely registers. When the needle passes from Tara to Chibs, Tig doesn't even flinch, and it's not entirely because he's out of it. He trusts the man with his life, and with patching up the hole in his ass.

Before he knows it, the man's done and patting him on the thigh and his pants are being pulled up and over his hips. He's numb from the combination of the drugs and alcohol, which is a good thing, because he knows, from experience, that when the drugs wear off, his ass is going to be throbbing.

When Chibs pulls him up, helps him off the table, and then slings his arm up and over his broad shoulders, Tig nods his thanks. Coherent speech has fled him, and he lets Chibs cart him to a room and tug his pants off and then tuck him into bed.

"Stay?" Tig asks, and he flips the covers off, baring his ass, because, even with the drugs pumping through his blood, it still hurts when the fabric, as light as it is, brushes against the stitches.

Chibs pauses in the doorway, Tig can see his shadow – framed by the door – as it falls across the bed, him, and is cast onto the wall. It's long and dark and misshapen. It doesn't look anything like Chibs, kind of reminds Tig of those funhouse mirrors that distort a man's shape, making him look fatter or skinnier than he really is. It's eerie, and Tig shivers, even though it's hot.

When the shadow moves, followed by a solid, 'click,' as the door slams shut, and the bed dips and Chibs' hand moves to the small of his back, Tig's breath stills, and he holds it, because he's not sure what he wants to come of this, if anything. But, he's remembering Venus and the teasing and the fucking pain in his ass that isn't there right now, and he wants. He wants and he begs, silently, just a slight rolling of his hips, and Chibs is there, his breath ghosting at the nape of his neck.

"You sure about this?"

A nod, and a breathy moan, and that's all the consent that's needed.

Tig expels a shaky breath, digs his fingers into the sheets, and bites his lip when Chibs applies his tongue, warm, wet and rolled to the hollow of his ass, laving at the hole, and then pushing past the tight muscles.

Tig's toes curl when Chibs' tongue wriggles inside of him, and he bucks a little and writhes when Chibs' tongue moves and the man's mouth begins to pepper kisses around the bite he'd patched up earlier. Though his ass cheek is numb from whatever Tara had pumped into him, Tig's dick swells in response to the wet sucking sounds that Chibs' mouth is making.

"Okay there Tig?" Chibs' voice is thick, and Tig can feel the man's erection pressing against his thigh.

Though he'd been thinking of what it would be like to have Venus' mouth and hands wrapped around his cock or to be balls deep inside of the transvestite, Tig suddenly wants nothing more than to have Chibs fuck him until he can't remember a single thing that happened that day.

Tig fists the sheets and shoves his ass up into Chibs' face, wanting the man's tongue, fingers, cock, inside of him, making him feel again, even though he's not sure if that's a good thing right now. "Fuck."

"Just tell me what you want," Chibs says, and his fingers are tunnel into Tig's hips, even as Tig feels the man's weight resting on the back of his thighs as he straddles him.

"Fuck," is all that Tig manages to utter, and then he's biting one of his fists as Chibs takes him at his word.

Tig wonders just how much the other man had to drink before he started stitching him up, because he's certain that Chibs would've at least done a little more to prep him than skewer him with his tongue if he was operating with a full deck. Or maybe this has taken Chibs by just as much surprise as it's taken Tig.

Either way, Tig can't bite back the cry of pain that is wrenched from him when Chibs enters him with a single grunted thrust, and then the both of them still – Chibs panting, breath hot and moist against Tig's shoulder, and Tig squirming as his muscles struggle to adjust around the thickness of Chibs' cock. When Tig's muscles finally, finally relax, Chibs doesn't waste any time fucking him, and soon he's rocking back into the man, and fumbling to wrap his hands around his own weeping cock.

Before long both of them come with muffled shouts. Chibs stifles his cry by biting into Tig's shoulder, leaving a mark not unlike the one that's gracing his ass, and Tig quiets himself by turning his face into the pillow as they both ride out their orgasms. When Chibs pulls out, Tig's ass feels like it's burning, and he's aching both inside and out. It's a good, honest pain, one that he wouldn't mind experiencing again sometime.

Exhausted, he turns his head to the side, lets Chibs clean the both of them, and falls asleep. He doesn't feel the bed shift when Chibs stands to take his leave, nor does he hear the man's whispered prayer for a speedy recovery.

The sun, filtering in through a gap in the checkered curtains, wakes him, and Tig squints, shields his eyes with his hand and then groans. He aches from head to toe, and has only a vague recollection of what happened the day before. The memory of Chibs fucking him, though, that stands out the clearest, and, he thinks, as far as pains in the ass go, bites have nothing on Chibs.

"Cute, tasty ass, indeed," Tig mutters, and then he goes back to sleep, because, fuck all if he's going to work today.

 

**Author's Note:**

> (Because I'm anal about this kind of thing.)  
> Works Cited
> 
> Sutter, Kurt. "Orca Shrugged." Sons of Anarchy. FX. Hollywood, CA, 9 Oct. 2012. Television.
> 
> Sutter, Kurt. "Patch Over." Sons of Anarchy. FX. Hollywood, CA, 4 Sept. 2008. Television.


End file.
